


Twelve Days of Christmas (Marvel)

by 3BeesAndCoffee3



Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: But nothing actually smutty, But only in day 10, Christmas Decorations, F/F, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, How Do I Tag, Hydra Mentions, Loki is Cranky, M/M, Marriage Proposal, One Shot Collection, Past Character Death, Past Hydra, Peter Parker is Legal, Polyamory, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Sexual inuendos, Sleepy Cuddles, Stucky - Freeform, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Thorki - Freeform, Twelve Days Of Christmas, Twelve Days of Fic-mas, WinterFalcon - Freeform, etc. - Freeform, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-16 22:48:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13063788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3BeesAndCoffee3/pseuds/3BeesAndCoffee3
Summary: Collection of my Twelve Days of Christmas works, enjoy!





	1. Day 1: Mistletoe (Steve/Bucky)

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: Bucky’s living with Steve now, and has been for a while since he got away from Hydra. It’s almost Christmas though, and he thinks this year might be the best Christmas he’s ever had.

The days leading up to Christmas were different than Bucky could ever remember them being before.

He remembers days where he would pile blankets on Steve’s thin frame so he’d stay warm in the colder days in Brooklyn, or scrambling to try and simply supply a meal on the day. He also remembers with bitter reflection, the days he spent camped out under a poorly pitched tent, shivering under a blanket as he waited for the sounds of gunshots or his men shouting to wake him.

This is significantly different than those days, nothing like before. He’s doing better now too, with weekly therapy sessions and living with Steve. He doesn’t even wake up shaking and scared so much anymore, he sleeps soundly. He feels okay for the first time in a long time.

They have money for food now, and Steve makes a point of showing it when he drags him out of the house on a particularly cold day when there’s snow piling up on the streets. They end up at some odd little shop where there’s good smelling spices, and meat and vegetables that weren’t grown in some big company–which everything else seems to be now. The few people working don’t speak English very well, but they’re nice–more than nice honestly, and they usually offer them little samples of different honeys and crackers when they go in.

Steve carries around a basket and grabs just about everything in sight. By time he’s heading for check out there’s probably four different kinds of meat in it. They don’t need it, but he thinks it must be something about the fact for the first time in their lives they can.

They go to about four other places after that, and Steve insists on getting chocolate and candy canes, and more lights even though the whole living room is bright enough to blind a man. Overall it’s actually kind of enjoyable, even though he’s really not a fan of the unbelievably big amount of people pushing around and buying the same things as everyone else.

“This is soft,” Steve comments, gently feeling one of the blankets on display. Somehow they’d migrated from the food section to the mass amounts of Christmas gift isles. Everything was such a giant display now, it was funny, how different it was from before.

Bucky suppresses a little laugh, just barely, but somehow. “Yeah, I bet.”

“C'mere, feel it,” Steve urges, grabbing his wrist to tug him over. He complain with an amused smile and sigh, reaching out to brush his hand over it. “Maybe we need it for the couch.”

They don’t need it, Bucky’s sure. There’s no short of pillows or blankets in the little home Steve’s made for himself, but if Steve wants it, he’s sure as hell not going to tell him otherwise. He likes seeing Steve happy and making things his own. He’s not sure that Steve hasn’t started making little changes for Bucky, either. There’s softer towels in the bathroom now, because the rough and cheap ones reminded him too much of HYDRA and the freezing spray of water against his skin just to keep him clean. The house is kept a little warmer, and he’s noticed there’s always a light left on in the hallway. It’s little things, but they’re things done for small reasons, for Bucky.

“You think?”

Bucky shrugs a little under the bulk of his sweater. “Yeah, sure.”

Steve beams at him, grabbing it and tossing it into the basket along side the other mass amounts of food and soap, beverages and other little things. He was starting to think Steve had no restraint when it came to shopping. Tony supplied Steve with more than enough cash on top of everything else.

If Bucky so much as looked at something Steve would be grabbing it and trying to buy it. It was ridiculous.

“Cocoa and movies when we get home?” Steve asked as he stuffed another box of cocoa mix into the basket. They had plenty at home already.

“Mm, sure,” Bucky shrugs, following alongside Steve. Steve’s been so close with him lately, they almost always up sleeping on the couch together after staying up a little too late watching movies. He feels like they’re back in Brooklyn years before the war, but Steve’s bigger, healthier, kind of bolder now, in a way he didn’t think was even missing.

They’ve always been close, and Bucky’s always loved Steve like no other, even when they’d go out with some pretty girl, Steve was almost always his focus, but now things were a little different.

Bucky caught Steve giving him long glances, smiling every time. He sketched Bucky a lot more now too, and he took care of him far above what he needed to do. He thought at first it was because he was worried for him, thinking that he might spiral back into that point where he couldn’t talk or think, always scared; but after a while it became clear that this was self motivated, and Steve seemed to find pleasure in being able to help Bucky or even just spend time with him. Maybe he was just trying to repay him.

They arrived home almost an hour later, exiting the cab hurriedly as they both scrambled to gather up the groceries. The weather was getting colder and snow was piling up higher, the wind just strong enough to tassel Bucky’s hair and make him shiver, even through the thickness of his oversized sweater. He wanted to curl up in bed next to Steve and relax. The day had been fine, but pretending to be 100% all the time, especially around so many people, was tiring. Luckily, Steve understood that.

“Why don’t you go change and I’ll put this stuff away, then we can watch a movie?”

Bucky pauses just momentarily, because he should help Steve, he feels bad when he doesn’t, but Steve gives him that look and he nods. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

So Bucky heads back to Steve’s bedroom, though it’s pretty much his now too. He even has a little bin with clothes of his own, until they can find a dresser, and it’s nice. He has a nightstand on one side of the bed, and Steve’s is on the other. Bucky has a toothbrush, razor, shampoo and the likes in one spot in the bathroom attached to the room, just like Steve. He thinks that honestly, having his own things along side Steve’s is what helped the most.

He kicks his boots off right inside the door, snow and bits of mud and ice-melt knocking off onto the carpeted floor. He’ll take care of it later. He crosses the room in his socks and digs around a little in the bin, trying to find some sweats to put on. The carpet feels nice under his feet, he’s not sure he’ll ever get used to soft things like this; it’s such a violent contrast compared to the harshness of Hydra and the cells.

Once he’s dressed, he heads back to Steve, who’s already put everything away and started the kettle for cocoa, a large selection of movies spanned out across the table.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve smiles when he sees him, getting two mugs out of the cupboard.

“Hey,” Bucky says softly, stuffing his hands in his pants pockets.

“Excited for tomorrow?”

He almost asks why he should be, but, of course they did the shopping for a reason, because they’re having dinner tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, just the two of them. He’s actually looking forward to it. On Christmas, they’re meeting up with Tony and Bruce, anyone else that cares to show, but tomorrow is just them, and just Steve’s cooking and attention. “Yeah,” Bucky says, still kind of quiet. He isn’t always quiet, sometimes he’s loud and joking, but right now he feels calm, kind of tired, and like he should be whispering, so he goes with his gut and keeps things lowkey. “it’ll be nice.”

Steve smiles, nodding as he takes the water off the stove. “Like before but better,” Steve says, and he sounds cheery, so he means it. He’s getting better at reading those queues.

Before, was when they were huddled up somewhere trying to keep warm and just talking, or when his mother was still alive and they would sit around the fireplace and eat cookies. Now they could stay warm and relax, eat as much as they wanted, talk, it sounded like a good day; like a good excuse to just be with Steve.

“Much better,” Bucky says, flopping back into one of the chairs at the table.

“I’ll make extra food, so we can have leftovers.”

“Mm, smart.”

“You gonna help?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Perfect,” Steve says with a grin, readying the cocoa. “Pick a movie, I’ve seen most of them.”

Bucky looks down at the array of films, reading over the titles and the covers. “Here,” he says sliding one of the Christmas titles towards the edge.

Steve nods in agreement, smiling as he mixes the drinks and hands one to Bucky. It’s hot even through the mug, but it’s not so bad it burns him. It’s kind of nice after being in the cold. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“‘Course, ready for the movie?” Steve asks, grabbing the new blanket off the counter and his mug of cocoa.

Bucky nods, getting up and grabbing the movie, following behind Steve to the couch. They sat together on the couch, pressed close against each other, the blanket over them as the movie plays and they drink they’re cocoa.

He mindlessly finishes his drink within a few minutes of the movie starting and just spends the rest of the time holding the empty cup, side nudged up against Steve’s body.

It’s quiet and nice, and Bucky relishes in it as long as he can. He wishes he could stay like this forever, but once the credits are rolling, he already feels kind of drowsy. He could sleep, even if he doesn’t need to. It’s a kind of sleepy where he’s just pleasantly relaxed.

“Mm, we should go to the bedroom,” Bucky says softly as Steve stands, stretching and letting his joints pop. It’s oddly bright out, even as the sun sets, due to the snow still coming down outside.

“Okay, yeah,” he agrees easily, taking Bucky’s mug from him. “More cocoa?”

“Please?”

“Gotcha, come help me?” He asks, but he looks unsure, kind of nervous. He was bouncing his leg at the end of the movie, but Bucky had thought he was getting restless, now he’s kind of worried. So he gets up and follows Steve back to the kitchen, he seems to do a lot of following these days.

Bucky doesn’t even notice Steve’s stopped walking until he bumps into him, right in the doorway to the kitchen. Steve’s facing him too. “Stevie?”

Steve just kind of looks at him, and they’re standing close. Really close, actually. He can feel Steve’s body warmth from where he’s standing, and he should back up, one of them should, but neither of them do.

Steve glances up at the ceiling, then trains his eyes back on Bucky’s. He looks about ready to explode.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve breathes, tangling his fingers in the fabric of his shirt. His voice is so soft and nervous that Bucky is just about ready to panic.

“Then-?”

“Mistletoe.”

“What?”

Steve just looks up again, this time Bucky’s eyes follow. There’s a tiny bit of mistletoe above their heads, pinned to the arch of the doorway, dangling there.

Bucky wants to laugh, nervous. His whole body is on fire, feels like he’s being electrocuted. All his nerves are tingling. “Steve–?”

“You’re supposed to kiss me,” Steve says quietly, just hardly above a whisper. He’s pressing his lips to Bucky’s before he can even respond.

It’s soft and warm, more than a little gentle, it’s something he’s needed since he first met Steve, something he’s craved unknowingly his entire life. When they finally broke apart, they shared air for a second, eyes focused on one another’s.

“That–was that okay?”

Bucky laughs this time, can’t even help it. “it was more than okay, Stevie,” Bucky says, assuring. His body is still thrumming with some kind of electricity.

“Good.”

Bucky smiles a little, resting his forehead against Steve’s. He can’t help but think it’s kind of an early present, because now he doesn’t have so many confusing thoughts, he can just love Steve. That’s all he wants, maybe all he’s ever wanted.

“Bed?”

“Yeah, bed.”


	2. Day 2: Early Presents (Peter/Wade)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Peter drags wade out to do some Christmas shopping.

He’s used to the cold, Queens was always cold, so it doesn’t really bother him when he walks all the way home from work, or to the store, even when the wind is icy and a little blustery. It just doesn’t phase him.

Wade however? It phases him. He can’t stand the cold in the slightest, and it’s almost laughable. He wears four layers when it drops below fifty, and Peter’s fine with a hoodie. That’s probably the main problem Wade’s had since moving in with Peter, he just hates the weather.

Sure, it’ll get warmer, and sure, it’s especially cold right now, it’s almost Christmas, but god, he’s never seen anyone hate this time of year more than Wade.

“It’s too fucking cold,” he whines, slumping down further onto the couch that Peter has spent the better part of ten minutes trying to pry him from.

“It’s not that bad,” Peter assures, giving Wade’s arm another tug. He’s wearing a long sleeve shirt and hoodie over that, there’s no way he can be cold, especially in the house with the heat on. “Come on, we’ll be inside anyways.”

“Nope, sorry doll face,” he said, shaking his head. He’s always so stubborn.

“Wade,” Peter sighs, long and drawn out because he’s so damn frustrating. He’s lucky he loves him. “Come on, we’re running out of time, I need to get Tony and Aunt May presents. I haven’t even gotten you a present yet, so I know you haven’t gotten me one either, let’s go.”

“Petey, come on, we can do it some other time, when it’s not so damn cold.”

“it’s almost Christmas, it’s just going to get colder.”

Wade groans far louder than necessary and gives Peter a big doe-eyed look, sticking his bottom lip out. He really hopes he doesn’t expect this to work, because even when Wade /does/ look cute, he’s become quite the expert in saying no to him.

"Maybe you can warm me up, sweetie-pie?” He says with a grin, and he looks ready to take a bite out of him. It’s really no wonder why Aunt May had been so skeptical of them dating, let alone moving in together. He’s eighteen though, and he loves Wade, even if he doubts it sometimes himself.

He rolls his eyes efficiently, on queue and shakes his head, letting go of Wade’s arm. “Not a chance,” he says easily, watching Wade pout. He’s going to get him out of the house though, he’s determined.

“You’re evil,” he says with a huff. Peter pays it no mind.

“I’ll cuddle with you when we get home if you get off your ass and come Christmas shopping with me.”

That sparks interest, and he squints at him, almost like he’s expecting Peter to lie or laugh at him and say it’s a joke. “Oh really?”

“I said I would,” Peter says with a little chuckle. He knows Wade too well, and it makes negotiation too easy, not that he’s really complaining.

“You drive a hard bargain, Petey,” he sighs, like he’s really weighing the options. Peter already knows he’s won, so he just cocks his hip, watching him with mild amusement. “I could just stay home, sleep… stay warm.”

“Uh uh,” he says, unable to keep his grin off his face anymore.

“But, you’re a sweet lil thing and I do like being able to hold you, and kiss you, and anything else that might follow. You know, early Christmas presents and all that.”

Peter rolls his eyes again, shaking his head. “Knock it off,” he says tiredly. He’s pretty well used to it by now. This is just how Wade is, and he’ll never admit that he actually kind of loves it. It’s an okay part of their relationship, really.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” he chuckles, smiling. “let’s go then, before I freeze to death or really regret this.”

So eventually Wade is actually up and ready to leave and they head out, cramming into their shit car. The heat works, but it takes a while, so he listens to Wade whine the majority of the ride there. Once they’re parked at the mall he’s thoroughly cold himself, though he seems to have a much easier time keeping his mouth shut than Wade.

“Come on, you need to help me pick something for them,” Peter says with a grin as he shuts off the car and steps out. He’s awful at picking presents, he really is, and he’s hoping Wade is better at it than he is. Or at least more helpful than he’s been so far.

“yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” he says dramatically, but he can hear the smile in his voice. Sarcastic bastard that he is.

Wade climbs out with little grace, practically tripping over himself in the process. Peter thinks it’s a bit of a mystery how Wade hasn’t nearly killed himself on the ice yet. He burns himself making toast.

He wraps an arm around Peter’s middle, gentle but still firm enough that they can share body heat. “How’re you not freezing?”

“I’m used to the cold?” He offers back, looking at Wade with a confused face.

“No one gets used to the cold, Petey, don’t lie to yourself.”

Peter snorts out a laugh as they push through the doors. It’s considerably warmer just inside the door and Wade sighs loudly, maybe slightly too sexually. Luckily no one seems to notice.

“Wade,” Peter hisses, smacking at his arm, because God, he’s embarrassing.

He just laughs, nudging Peter back playfully. “Calm down, no one even cares.” He glares back anyways. He doesn’t care, Wade still strives to make Peter squirm. “We’re getting food before we leave,” he says after another pause.

“Fine, but not until we’re done shopping, okay?”

“Fineee,” Wade groans, leaning into Peter for emphasis.

He drags him to some nice little shop with clothes and nice smelling candles and stuff, because it’s as good a place as any to start looking for Aunt May.

There’s a lot of pretty dresses and things he could imagine she’d like, but he’s really not sure. He always wants to spoil her, it’s the money that gets in the way.

“Heya, Petey?”

“Hm?” He looks at him as he twirls one the lave scarves around his index finger.

“I don’t know him as well as you, I’ll admit, but I’m fairly sure you aren’t gonna find anything for Stark in here,” he says with a little shrug, holding up one of the tiniest dresses he can find, all lace and soft looking fabric.

Peters eyebrow actually twitches as he gives him a long look. He really isn’t joking. “I’m looking for Aunt May, not Mr. Stark!” He says, his eyes are wide and he’s honestly kind of wondering why he ended up with this moron. His face is hot, is he blushing? He feels like he’s blushing.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that makes sense,” he says with a sigh, though he looks vaguely disappointed. “Maybe we can get the dress for you instead?”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles, scanning the isles. He doesn’t know where to even start. He’s awful at shopping on general, it’s even harder for women.

“Can I help you gentlemen?” Says some lady, leaning over the counter. She has a thick accent, Texan maybe. She’s pretty, her hair is thick and blond, pulled up in a ponytail, though it’s clearly been bleached. She’s tan, curvyand tall. She looks nice and slightly intimidating.

“I hope,” Wade mumbles, flashing Peter a grin. He just glares back.

”No, uh, I don’t think so,“ Peter says awkwardly. He probably could use her expertise, but he’s way too awkward and he would rather avoid talking to her, really.

She seems to disregard him completely though and comes around her desk. "Lookin’ for a sister? Girlfriend?”

Wade’s chuckling madly behind him, letting him suffer the attention and bombardment of questions. God, he hates him sometimes.

“Uh, no,” he says, but he sounds uncertain even to himself.

“Hmm? Who is it for than, sugar?”

He hopes dearly that this doesn’t bite him in the ass later and have Wade never, ever let his inevitable skip ups go. “Uh, my aunt? My mom, really.”

She perks up, and she looks far too excited. “Ooh! Cute!” She squeals, bouncing on her heels. “Come over here, I’ll show you some of our newest additions to this line, we just got some new perfume and sweaters in!”

Wade hangs back, looking at thigh highs and other skimpy looking outfits. He’s pretty sure he’s doing it to make the situation worse for him, but who knows.

Peter couldn’t care any less about their new perfume or stupid sweaters. Did she even like perfume? She always just smelled nice. It’s not like he payed attention to that stuff.

“We’ve got these four new perfumes, and they’re in such cute packaging, ya know? They’re limited edition, so only for Christmas!”

He tries not to show how much he really, really, doesn’t care. He made a mistake coming in here, apparently. Women were so difficult.

Eventually, after what feels like quite literally a century, she’s shown him every possible option in perfume, lotion, makeup, clothes and anything else he could possibly think of. He doesn’t want to buy anything of the stuff either, though now he feels generally compelled to.

“Gonna get her some panties?” Wade says in his ear, which when the hell did he even come over here? He jumps back a little, smacking him in the chest.

“Shut up, asshole.”

“I’m helping you,” he says incredulously, looking offended.

He shakes his head. “Imma leave you behind, you’re the worst.”

“No you won’t, you love me,” he says with a grin, draping himself over peter like he does so often. He gives the girl behind the counter a long look, and he’s not sure it’s not some bizarre attempt at dominance. She does look uncomfortable, either from Wade’s odd display or something else, he can’t really be sure.

“Lucky for you.”

With a decent amount of awkwardness, Wade gets him to leave the store, though he really does feel obligated to buy something at this point. “How about we go somewhere that’ll actually have good presents?”

“And you’re the expert now?” Peter asks with a little grin, pulling Wade’s beanie down over his eyes. He wishes he wouldn’t hide so much behind his clothes, but he knows he’s uncomfortable as it is, and the less attention drawn to himself the better.

Wade grins widely, tugging the hat back up so it’s on his head properly again. “I am, actually,” he says matter of factly as he grabs Peters hand and tugs him towards another shop. The mall is getting kind of crowded at this point, and they’re weaving through people as he tries his best not to trip over himself and into his boyfriend or someone else.

“Oh yeah?” He says through a laugh as Wade pulls him to the side quickly. He stumbles a little at the sudden force behind it and almost ends up against the wall or in Wade’s chest but he catches himself.

“I’ll prove it,” Wade says smartly, ruffling Peter’s hair a little. He hates when he does that.

“Okay, I’m waiting,” he teases back but Wade doesn’t even looked phased. He wonders vaguely, if he isn’t so bad at shopping. It wouldn’t surprise him really, Wade is good at a lot of weird things.

He drags him almost instantly to the store right next to them where there’s loud music playing overhead, some rock band he’s never even heard before and the lights are bright and multicolored. The walls are lined with bizarre things, men’s dress wear, sunglasses, bongs towards the back, and a long line of shoes all the way from Converse to dress shoes. He thinks there’s probably a reason that he hasn’t ever been here before.

“Boom,” he says proudly, like he solved everything.

Really, Peter is just more confused.

“What the hell is this?”

“Where you’re gonna find Stark a present, honey-buns,” he grins, licking his lips quickly.

“Showing me a shop is different than finding a present,” he says flatly in response. “Here I was thinking you were some expert.”

“Did I say I was done?”

He raises his eyebrows in silent expectation. Wade bounces into action then, jogging over to one of the shelves in the back, he’s like a wind up toy that never winds down. It’s tiring just watching him.

“Alright, okay, so get him a stupid dress jacket-thingy,” he says waving his hand vaguely at the stuff as peter catches up. “This one.”

He grabs it off the hanger and peter nods mutely. He could see him wearing it.

“Then just get him a snazzy ass pocket watch. Boom, done.”

“Okay, not bad,” Peter admits, amused. He’s taking this way to seriously, it’s both hysterical and kind of cute.

“I mean, unless he needs a pipe and a huge ass, neon-pink bong…”

“Okay, just stop.”

Wade chuckles and buys the stuff, refusing to let him see the price of anything and then he’s towing him around like a rag-doll again to several other stores after that.

Eventually they’re each carrying a pretty damn huge bag of stuff for Aunt May and Tony alike, and Peter is about ready to go and get something to eat himself.

“What do you want to eat?”

Wade waves a dismissive hand at him in response, making a face. “Food can wait, we have one more stop to make.”

“I already got plenty of stuff,” he assures with a laugh.

“Not quite.”

“Okay, what else do I have to get?”

“Come on, you’ll see.”

So peter follows him blindly, confused. Wade let’s go of him when they’re in front of one of those stupid jewelry stores, and he almost laughs and tells him the joke is over before he thinks that a nice necklace or something might be kind of perfect for Aunt May.

“Alright, smart.”

Wade grins a little, looking all too pleased. “I know.”

“Let’s hurry so we can go eat?”

“It’ll just take a minute, everything is already picked out,” he says, shrugging as he walks in.

Peter follows quickly, catching up and wrapping an arm around Wade’s. “You picked something for her?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

Wade doesn’t answer, just goes up to the counter where the lady smiles brightly and hands him one of the pretty and expensive looking boxes all of the rings and brackets are held in.

“Because I picked it for you, obviously,” he said, turning to look at peter.

“We aren’t shopping for me, Wade,” peter says, rolling his eyes. Seriously, why couldn’t he be secretive like everyone else’s boyfriend on planet earth?

“Well, I was,” he says, pouting as he started to undo the wrappings and open it up.

“Well don’t show me!”

“I kinda have to, Pete,” wade says with a laugh.

“Normal people wait until Christmas!”

The lady behind the counter is starring but she’s smiling, so he guesses she’s used to this stuff.

“Well, one, I’m not normal,” he says, and Peter just shakes his head, unamused. “And second, I can’t wait any longer, so you’re just gonna have to deal with being engaged before Christmas.”

“What?”

Wade just kind of grins.

“you heard me.”

“Wade–?”

He gets down on one knee before Peter can even react or form a sentence, opening the little box with a small, silver band inside. And wow, okay, he’s gonna pass out.

“Marry me?”

“Shit, you suck so much!” Peter screeches, and yeah, he’s already crying.

Wade snorts. “Yeah, I know. So uh, marriage or?”

“Fuck,” Peter squeaks, covering his mouth with his hands. He pretends like he doesn’t notice how much he’s shaking. “Yes, yes!”

The lady giggles, hopping up and down a little as she gives a small little round of applause.

Wade gets up then, still grinning widely and smugly, Peter wants to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“you such so much,” Peter breathes, tears still pooling and spilling over. His heart is beating out of his chest, he thinks he might have an aneurism. “I hate you.”

“No you don’t,” Wade says, kissing some of the tears from peters cheek as he fits the ring over Peter’s finger. “There, now you’re mine.”

Peter sniffles, smiling down at the ring.

“And now you really owe me lunch.”


	3. Day 3: Cocoa? (pre-serum!Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Pre-serum!Steve gets sick over Christmas, so Bucky comes over to keep him company.

Steve’s sick, and that’s not unusual, Bucky’s pretty well used to it and expects it. Steve’s tiny, and he’s almost always sick. He still worries though. He’s so small and frail, he thinks he might freeze to death or something. What is kind of unfortunate and less usual, is that it’s almost Christmas, just a day away, and Steve’s really, really sick.

He doesn’t mind so much. He always spends his time with Steve when he’s sick, and the holidays won’t be any different, really. He just feels bad.

The thing that does bother him, is that Steve is really upset. He’s quiet and constantly apologizing through shaky coughs, how he understands if Bucky wants to go out instead, or spend it at home with someone, maybe a girl. The thought of Bucky leaving Steve alone on Christmas is laughable enough as it is, but especially knowing Steve’s sick? There’s no way in hell he’d be anywhere but Steve’s house, taking care of him.

He’ll make sure Steve’s just as happy as he deserves, even if he’s sick.

So when he wakes up in the morning he makes it his job to roll out of bed, get dressed and pack up several boxes of Christmas stuff, including more blankets and lights. He grabs some food from the back of his cupboard too, as an afterthought.

It’s not too cold out, really. Especially considering how late in the year it is. It’s snowed once or twice but mostly it’s just Icy, dusted with a little snow here and there. It’s about forty or thirty degrees, he thinks, judging by the bite at his skin when he steps outside. It’s not too bad though, besides the awkward shape of carrying the two boxes. He makes it to Steve’s within a half hour, and by then he’s pretty thoroughly chilled. It feels nice stepping into Steve’s apartment after fishing the spare key out. Steve’s house doesn’t even have actual heat, but it’s still much nicer than outside, blocking out the wind.

The lights are all out, and he almost calls out for Steve but then he thinks twice. He’s probably sleeping between the weather and his illness, he doesn’t blame him.

When he tiptoes further into the house carefully, trying to keep quiet when he sets the weight of the boxes down by the window, he notices Steve’s small form, curled up under a pile of blankets, head pressed gently into the fluff of a pillow. His hair is soft looking, the way bits of light are casting across his face. It’s almost easy to forget he’s sick at all. He looks angelic.

He keeps quiet after that, he doesn’t have half the heart to even consider waking him up. He needs sleep, and Bucky understands. He’s fine with it. It’s nice just being with Steve in case he needs him.

He looses track of time easily, busies himself with stringing up a sinful amount of lights. Most of them don’t even have an outlet, but it looks better just having something in his otherwise fairly depressing looking apartment. He doesn’t have a tree or anything, but he makes due. He puts little decorations up and those stupid sachets of Christmas-y smelling things in various places. He’s putting some tiny wooden pieces by the window when he hears Steve clear his throat.

He’s standing in the doorway to his bedroom, a blanket draped over his shoulders. His hair is a mess and he looks awful, pale and wavering between sleepy and hardly conscious. He gives Bucky a small and curious smile. “Hey, Buck.”

He smiles back wide. “Hey Stevie, how’re you feelin’?”

He shrugs his boney little shoulders, giving a crooked smile. “I’m okay. What’re you doing?” He asks curiously, raising an eyebrow. He looks kinda cute, his hair looks like honey under a soft ray of sunlight through the window.

“I was decorating,” he says, gesturing at a strand of lights that were actually working over a window.

“Why?” Steve asks, smiling.

“It’s Christmas tomorrow?”

“I thought you were going out?”

“I’m stayin’ with you, punk,” he grins. “I didn’t work this hard for nothin’.”

“I told you not to,” Steve says, giving him a glare. He takes Steve seriously, he’s seen what the kid can do provoked, but he looks cute right now. He knows he wants him to stay, even though he won’t admit it. Steve thinks it’s such a burden spending time with him, especially when he’s sick, but he doesn’t mind at all, he never has.

“Yeah, we both know I don’t listen,” he reminds with a little chuckle. Steve smiles softly, almost shy.

“Fair.”

“Looks much better if I do say so myself,” Bucky says with a smug look, Steve just laughs a little.

“Yeah, it looks nice.”

Bucky hums in agreement, stuffs his hand in his pockets. He feels like stepping up closer to Steve, kissing him. They haven’t done any of that though, not in a long time. It was just kind of complicated. Bucky never cared about right and wrong, they were always blurred lines anyways, but Steve got nervous after a while, a little jealous too, of the women Bucky would bring home. Eventually it just slowly ended. He missed it though, God, he craved it.

“Want some cocoa?” Steve asks finally, taking his eyes off Bucky, finally.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says with a thoughtful nod, wetting his lips. “I’ll make some, go get back in bed before you get too chilled.”

“I’m fine, Buck.”

“Please?”

He doesn’t have to ask again, Steve just sighs, shaking his head at him as he creeps back into his bedroom. He knows that he doesn’t really mind though, he knows Steve understands, appreciates it. He also knows he hates looking like he needs to be taken care of, and often times he doesn’t treat him like he does at all. When he’s this sick though, Bucky’ll make an exception.

He makes some cocoa, lets the water come up a boil on the stove until the kettle screams, and he takes it off, pouring it into the odd assortment of chipped mugs on the counter. He mixes it as well as he can with a spoon, licking off the chocolate remains after. He meets Steve back in his room, balancing the cups as he shuts the door behind him. Steve is curled up in bed, knees against his chest and his eyes looking heavy. He has at least a dozen blankets piled up over him, but he still looks pale and chilled.

“Here you go,” Bucky says gently as he holds out the mug for Steve to take. He hopes it isn’t too hot.

He takes it gladly, shuffling around a little to get comfortable. “Thanks,” he smiles, patting the bed right besides him.

Bucky doesn’t hesitate, flops down on the bed and nestles up against Steve. “I better have a kick ass present, Rogers.”

Steve snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, right,” he says. “And you got me a massive house outside of war, right?”

“It’s huge,” Bucky says, nodding. He’s hardly keeping a straight face, sipping his cocoa. It’s a little hot but not awful, he can tolerate it. “Like, full bath, warm water.”

“Mm, huge bed?”

“Oh, it’s massive. Super warm.”

Steve hums happily, taking a long drink from his cocoa. “That’d be nice,” he says softly, coughing slightly, tilting his head to look at Bucky. “Go get a tree and everything.”

Bucky’s completely captivated, looking at Steve, his eyes kind of distant and dreamy. He looks a little less pale too, he thinks. "Can I kiss you?”

Smooth, Barnes.

Steve looks at him blankly for a little too long, but Bucky doesn’t have anything else to say and Steve looks up. “I don’t see a mistletoe,” he says with cheeky grin.

Bucky’s shoulders slump, relaxed. “Jack ass,” Bucky teases, Steve chuckles a little. Maybe it’s okay, just this once. He moves in a little, cups the side of Steve’s face gently. It’s soft skin, no stubble, and Bucky kisses his lips slowly and carefully, savors the taste of chocolate on his lips and the sweetness of him. It’s easy to remember, like this, why he’s spending Christmas here.


	4. Day 4: Baby, it's cold outside (Sam/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Sam and Bucky get snowed in. Bucky might die from sexual frustration or annoyance.

Sam was too drunk to go home last night, simple as that. Steve, Sam and Bucky had stayed in, drinking and talking, a movie in the background for the better part of Christmas. It had been fun, really, and even though Bucky and Sam bickered at every occasion, it had actually been nice.

Around 1am or so, Steve had gone home (stupid super serum soldiers and their crazy bodies) and offered Sam a ride, of course, because Steve’s a gentleman. Sam denied it though, said he would call a cab later and that he wanted to finish the movie and his beer. Bucky hadn’t complained, just threw on some pajamas and sipped a mug of tea because apparently he’s an old lady, and sat on the chair opposite of him after showing Steve out.

Sam couldn’t remember anything past that for the life of him, but waking up on Bucky’s couch with a blanket over him and his head pounding loud enough in his ears he feels like he might die is sign enough he didn’t make it home. He probably passed out before either of them called a cab. He’d been past a little drunk, but Sam liked drinking, especially over a holiday and with Steve, Bucky too, he guessed. It took the tension out of everything.

He heaved himself up after a few more minutes, waiting for the room to stop spinning. “Shit,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

The lights were all off, but he could smell coffee from the other room, so he figured Bucky was probably awake. The guy only ever slept like, what, two hours?

He stood, his balance thrown a little as it spun, tilting. He’d drunk too much, and he was currently thanking the heavens above for blessing him with a strong stomach and alcohol tolerance. He’d never had a really bad hang over before, honestly. A little nausea, bit of a headache, but not much else.

“Hey, Bucky?” He called out awkwardly, his voice sounded gruff.

Bucky emerged a few moments later, wearing grey sweats and a red t-shirt, hair pulled back. He raised an eyebrow at him skeptically. “Huh?” He doesn’t look amused, but he looks like it’s normal that Sam passed out in his house.

“Sorry, about last night?” He said awkwardly, smoothing a hand over his face.

Bucky shrugged and went back to the kitchen, emerging with two mugs of coffee, still steaming. “It’s fine, ya feelin’ okay?” He asked, setting Sam’s mug on the table.

“Not bad, been worse,” he said, picking up the mug after he sat back down on the couch. “I’ll get outta your hair soon.”

Bucky gives him a look like he just stripped naked in a supermarket, before glancing towards the window. “Yeah, uh, that’s not gonna happen.”

Sam looked at him blankly. Seriously, this guy couldn’t ever just explain, he had to be so cryptic. It was infuriating.

Bucky leaned back in his stupid old-guy recliner and sipped at his coffee. Of course he drank it black. “We’re snowed in,” he said flatly, peering at him, over his mug.

And upon looking out the window, he found he really wasn’t kidding. There was packed down snow as high as the windows, only a tiny gap at the top, exposing wind and of course, more snow.

Fuck.

“Oh hell no,” Sam said hurriedly, waving a finger at Bucky. “I’ve got shit I gotta get done!”

“Like what, sit on your ass?” Bucky grinned.

“I’m not you.”

Bucky glares accordingly and huffs. “Yeah, whatever, you ain’t gonna be able to make it out any time soon,” he shrugged. “Steve’s held up in a hotel somewhere.”

“Awesome,” Sam grumbled. Bucky seemed virtually Unphased. “So we’re gonna be the last sad fuckers on this planet?”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says as he kicks his legs up. Wow, who wears sweats that tight anyways? He hates this guy, hates him so much his dick hurts.

What.

Bucky raises an eyebrow at him. He’s staring, smooth Wilson, smooth. He jerks his eyes to his own coffee abruptly “it’ll probably safe to get home in a day or two?” Bucky says, though he doesn’t sound sure of himself. He has no idea, he’s sure.

“Yeah, guess we’ll see,” he says back awkwardly.

Bucky shrugs, goes back to sipping at his coffee. The house is a little cold, dim too. There’s no light coming from the windows, after all. But it’s not uncomfortable, and somehow they haven’t lost power, so he’ll take that as a win.

Sam sighed, drumming his fingers against his cup. He should probably drink it before it gets cold, but there’s a thick tension in the room he can’t shake off. Bucky’s not even looking at him, but it’s awkward, feels like he’s on the spot light, like maybe Bucky’s doing everything in his power not to look at him. The situation sucks, really.

“Hopefully it doesn’t get much worse, we’re running on my backup generator,” he says absently after another agonizing minute of silence.

“You have a fucking backup generator in this thing?” Sam asks, eyebrows raised. The house isn’t that big, it’s only got two rooms, a bathroom and small kitchen and living room. He’s not sure where one would even go.

“Yes,” he says back, glaring. “Lucky for you.”

Sam shrugs, because he’s not wrong, he just can’t figure out why, when and how this thing came to be. Or where for that matter.

A few hours pass, Sam’s taken a shower, and yeah, he purposefully uses all the hot water, brushed his teeth with a spare toothbrush Bucky has, and put his clothes back on. He’d finished his second mug of coffee and was settling back into the couch when the lights flickered. Bucky wasn’t even in the room, he’d excused himself around the time Sam went to take a shower so he could clean up and get dressed into something a little less sloppy, not that Sam gave a shit.

He gave the light a long hard stare, because there was no way in hell he was gonna freeze to death in the dark, but he stopped and the heater was still thrumming, so he relaxed a little.

It wasn’t until Bucky re-emerged in jeans and a hoodie, flopping down unreasonably close to Sam that the lights finally do just go out. The heater stops on queue and it’s silent.

“Fucking hell,” Sam mutters and by the look on Bucky’s face, he thinks he’s feeling the same way.

“Shit,” he breathes, rolling his eyes. “Well so much for that.”

“I’m gonna die, stuck in a shitty little house with you.”

“Oh boo hoo, Wilson,” Bucky retorted. “I made you coffee, gave you the couch, let you take a damn shower, I think you’re gonna survive.”

Sam huffs. “Not if I have to sit around you much longer.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

Sam and Bucky sit next to each other in silence, probably looking like children with their arms folded over their chests, refusing to look at each other. He hates how much he actually can stand Bucky. He drives him crazy, of course, but it’s in a good way, even if he claims it isn’t.

He’s thought about Bucky when he was alone on more than one occasion, and he’s never (almost) actually hated their time together. He kind of treasures it in a weird way. He knows Bucky is going to drive him insane, both with annoyance and sexually, but he can’t find it in him to care.

“Seriously though, everyone else is gonna die out,” Sam says again, finally.

Bucky looks at him, unamused. “Why would we be the only survivors?”

“We’ve had heat the longest,” he shrugs.

“You’re assuming.”

“Pretty damn sure.”

“Okay, fine, but we’ll still die eventually.”

Sam sighs, exasperated. “That’s why I said we have to,” he pauses, motioning vaguely with his hands. “Repopulate.”

Bucky makes a face. “Last I checked we all have dicks here,” Bucky says seriously, and yeah he totally just stared at Sam’s crotch, because of course he did.

“When did you check, I must’ve missed that?”

“So you don’t have a dick?”

Wow, how did they end up here?

Sam shakes his head with a low chuckle. “I think we both know the answer is that I very much do, have a dick.”

Bucky shrugs.

“What?”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“You’re all—shrugging, you shrugged!”

“So?” Bucky looks at him like he’s crazy.

“What, you don’t believe me now?”

“I never said I didn’t,” Bucky says with a grin.

“I swear to God-“ Sam starts, but before he’s finished, they’re kissing.

Sam honestly has no idea how it happened. He’s not even entirely sure which one of them made the move, but neither of them seem to really mind either way. It’s surprisingly softer than Sam thought it would be, when he’d actually thought about it, he’d always assumed it would be rushed, kind of hard. Honestly, minus the slight chapped scrape of Bucky’s lips, everything about it is soft and slow, gentle.

When they do part, they’re still only inches apart, and Bucky’s looking at him carefully.

“Huh,” Bucky says, pulling Sam into his lap with disturbing ease, kissing him again. Of course he doesn’t complain, it’s a fine late Christmas present. He’s kind of been waiting for it. Especially after he discovered that Bucky can’t shop for shit.

“What?” Sam asks, a little breathy when Bucky breaks it again.

“Nothing, Nothing,” Bucky says, but it’s beyond clear he’s lying.

“No, what is it Barnes?”

“You’re honestly really easy to work with, are we sure you’re not the one without a dick here?”


	5. Day 5: Breakfast in bed (Sam/Steve/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve spoil Bucky on Christmas.

It’s cold, even with the heat on, the air is chilly enough it keeps Bucky in bed long after he means to. He’s got the covers tangled up around himself, like a self made cocoon, and it’s warm and comfortable. There’s not even a reason to get out of bed at this point.

So, he dozes, in and out of light sleep, just enjoying his weight against the soft give of the mattress. He feels good, in a way he hasn’t in a while.

He fully wakes up again when the door creaks open, slowly and carefully. He can smell food. Bacon, eggs, and it makes his mouth water a little. He cracks an eye open as Steve and Sam walk in quietly, probably trying to make sure they don’t wake him up or startle him. Sam’s carrying a big plate, and he knows where the smell is coming from now, because there’s bacon and an omelet on the plate, along with a few strawberries off to the side, other fruits too. It looks damn good, and he guesses they both made it. It makes him feel ridiculously fuzzy inside.

“Buck, you awake?” Steve asks gently.

Bucky stirs lazily and rolls over to face them, eyes still heavy with sleep. “Mm, Yeah, sorta,” he mumbles.

Sam grins in response. “Breakfast?” He offers, holding out the tray of food once they’re at the foot of the bed.

“Mm, mhm,” he says softly, smiling lazily at them. They cross the room almost in sync and plop down onto the bed on either side of Bucky. They snuggle into his sides, keeping him cozy and warm. He could fall asleep again, so easily, but then Sam is pushing a bite of toast past his lips. He hums around the bite, enjoying it thoroughly. It was just lightly toasted with a generous amount of butter on it, just like Steve knew he liked it.

“What’d I do to deserve this?” Bucky asks curiously after he’s finished the toast, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You’re you?” Steve offers with a grin. Sam agrees with a little chuckle, kissing his jaw lightly. Bucky’s cheeks flush a little.

“And we love you, so why not?” Sam grins, snuggling into his side more. Bucky’s pretty sure his whole face is pink at this point. They just have that affect on him.

“Oh, we canceled, by the way,” Steve says as he kisses Bucky’s chest softly.

“Hm?”

“We’re gonna stay in, said to hell with getting dressed and sitting at Tony’s for Christmas.”

Oh. Right.

He’d kind of forgotten about that, and kinda forgotten that it was Christmas today too. He couldn’t lie, either, that sounded so much nicer and a whole lot less awkward, but he didn’t wanna drag them away from that, especially Steve. He knew Sam was pretty indifferent, but Steve and Tony had been working through shit.

“No, no, we can go,” Bucky frowned, looking back and forth between them. They both had a stubborn and kind of amused look on their faces. “Seriously, I really don’t mind. I’d feel terrible if we stayed home.”

“Too late for that, Steve canceled yesterday,” Sam said with a small smile. “This is more important than a stupid over priced party, man, seriously.”

Bucky bit his lip gently and looked at Steve, but he had the same ‘sure as hell’ look across his face. “Really, there’s no competition,” Steve grinned. “Besides, Sam has been loathing going.”

“What? Dude, I have not!”

“Oh?”

Bucky grinned a little down at his breakfast.

“Yeah, ‘oh’, don’t gimme that shit, Rogers, I’ve been just as willing to go as you.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve grins, pinching Sam’s arm playfully. He swats back at Steve with a direct bitch face.

“Man, knock it off.”

“Guys,” Bucky laughs, sinking back into his pillow. They both turn to look at him, and they look like children caught with their damn hands in a cookie jar. “Knock it off.”

“He started it,” Sam grins, nestling close to Bucky with a thump against the bed as he avoids Steve’s hand.

“Yeah, Yeah, gimme my Christmas breakfast,” Bucky grins.

“Ooh, guess he’s too good to use a fork now?” Sam grins.

“He’s a guy of taste,” Steve says with a shrug, hardly hiding a smile.

“Damn right I am.”

Sam snorts, stealing a strawberry off Bucky’s plate and popping it into his mouth. “Ooh, never mind, It’s too good for you,” Sam grins.

Bucky pouts, whining long enough that he eventually laughs and Sam stuffs a few blueberries in his mouth just to shut him up. Bucky just hums, satisfied as he eats the berries, which are surprisingly good, considering the time of year.

“Want one?” Bucky asks Steve after he’s finished chewing.

“Sure,” Steve smiles, plucks some from the dish and eats them with a smile.

They just kind of go back and forth for a while, after that, eating the fruit and feeding Bucky eggs or whatever else is on the plate until they’re both pretty blissfully full, snuggled up together on the bed with Steve carding a hand through Bucky’s hair and Sam just sorta clinging to is arm. He feels sated, practically close to sleep at this point.

“Just wait until you guys open your presents,” Steve hums with a grin, closing his eyes as he relaxes back into the bed.

“I swear, we agreed on cheap,” Sam says, almost sounding warning.

“I went cheap!” Steve says hastily. Neither of them believe him of course, because Steve always spoils them like no ones business.

“Cheap, like, twenty bucks each, or cheap like you could’ve saved the poor from poverty kind of cheap?” Bucky asks with a lazy smile, which Sam laughs at, eyes crinkling at the corners in that way Bucky adores.

“You’re both the worst,” Steve says, narrowing his eyes. “But it’s like, in between.”

“Oh my god, you know, I’m just gonna keep your present for someone else then,” Sam laughs, shaking his head.

“We had a deal,” Bucky shrugs, not that he really cares. Sam always buys a gift accordingly, makes it personal, Steve just buys them everything, like it’s their last day to live. Bucky’s never really been huge on presents, so he usually sticks to gift cards or something simple and inexpensive, but no one ever seems to mind. He kind of doubts it’s even about the presents at all, more the fact they’re able to get each other presents and be close. It’s sappy as all hell, but it also makes them happy, so who cares.

“Wait, What’re we doing about dinner?” He asks after a minute, once the false bickering has died down.

He watches Sam and Steve share a look, which is kind of blatantly screaming ‘oh fuck’ and then look back to Bucky like the guy asking has any idea.

“Yeah, uh, we really hadn’t thought that far.”

“Breakfast is as far as you both got?”

“Incidentally.”

“But Sam went grocery shopping yesterday, right?” Bucky asks, because there’s got to be plenty they have around the house they could make a fairly convincing meal with. Bucky’s made due with way worse, he grew up poor, right?

“He was supposed to,” Steve correctly bitterly.

Sam throws his hands up in defense. “I thought it was Steve’s turn! So not my fault, man!” He hollers, and Steve jabs him in the side with his finger.

They’ve always had an oddly physical relationship, Sam and Steve. Always hitting or pinching, or something, always playfully of course, but they don’t act like that with Bucky. Bucky’s Pretty constantly bickering lightly with Sam, like it’s always been, but they hold good conversations too, and they have this new little weekly tradition of taking bubble baths together that he secretly adores. He and Steve are kind of complicated, because they’ve always been complicated, but he’s equally as touchy with Steve as he is with Sam, and besides maybe confiding in Steve with a few things he’s not always ready to tell Sam, (he always does eventually) they’re all on an even scale. They have individual little things together, and it makes everything click together like damn clockwork. He’s lucky.

“Okay,” Bucky laughs, watching them swat at each other. “So no food?”

“Thanks to someone,” Steve says in a sing-song like voice, grabbing Sam by his upper arm. His whole hand doesn’t fit across the mass of muscle there, and Steve has big hands.

Bucky’s laughing a lot by now, sitting up in bed. His face feels hot with how much he’s laughing, it feels kind of unreal. Bucky finally wraps his arms around Sams middle, taking a jab at Steve’s leg with his foot. It’s just hard enough he lets go of Sam, and let’s him fall back fully against Bucky. It’s a weird kind of jumble of limbs, with Sam practically crushing him, and Steve leaning over both of them to deliver a swift kiss to each of their lips.

“Guess we’ll have to sacrifice Sam and roast him over an open fire,” Steve sighs, shaking his head.

Bucky nods.

“Roast the super soldier, he’s more…meaty,” Sam offers awkwardly and Bucky snorts.

“I’ll make soup,” Bucky says with a chuckle, shaking his head. He’s unfortunately lucky to have these two dipshits, even though they hog the covers and forget groceries half the time.

Yeah, he’s lucky.


	6. Day 6: Drink with me (Loki/Thor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki are stuck together on earth for Christmas, and although Thor is more than happy, Loki really... isn't.

“Cheer up,” Thor says, and if it’s meant to come out as anything other than a direct order, it falls short. Loki just folds his arms over his chest from where he’s standing, watching him fight with a strand of lights. They aren’t plugged in, they’re hardly even a string, more like a giant wad, but he can already tell they’re probably going to be annoying and flashy.

“I’m plenty cheery, thank you,” Loki assures, grimacing slightly as he watched Thor continue to tug on them harshly.

Midgard had stupid traditions and stupid holidays, and he most certainly didn’t need them here. Especially not with Thor, because he always managed to go over the top and make things ten times worse. Besides, in Loki’s past experience, Thor’s idea of celebrating anything ended with far too much alcohol and far too many women wearing far too little. It really wasn’t enjoyable.

“No you aren’t, you aren’t even smiling!”

Loki rolled his eyes, flashing Thor a large and completely forced grin. It wasn’t meant to fool. He didn’t want to be stuck here at all, not with Thor and not for…this. “There, smiling? Happy now, are we?” He asked, clapping his hands together as he crossed the room to inspect closer.

Thor shook his head, smiling despite them both. Loki’s starting to hate that smile the longer he’s stuck here, and god, he’s been playing awful music all day. “I’m preparing for Christmas, help,” Thor says, shoving the mass of lights at Loki, apparently giving up.

“I think the tree was plenty,” Loki argues. Because honestly, the thing was huge, and there were stupid pine needles everywhere and it took up way to much room in their stupid section of the Tower. He let the tree go, because Thor was Thor, and he could have his part in whatever bizarre things he did here with his bizarre and awful friends, colleagues, whatever, but this was a bit much.

“Nonsense! Everyone else is going all out,” Thor says without even glancing back at Loki, and he’s got more lights. Great.

Loki’s mindlessly, at some point, started untangling the lights despite himself. Again, and certainly not for the first time recently, he wishes he had somewhere else to go.

“They have traditions you might like,” he says, because he never stops talking. “And food, and drink.”

“No, I think those are of your interest,” he says, rolling his eyes again.

Thor looks at him, makes a face as he looks him over. “Maybe it’s because you always dress like that, that’s why you look so down.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress? It doesn’t have anything to do with—whatever you’re talking about.”

He’s always insulting him.

“No! Everyone is dressing colorfully, it’s that time of year! You’d look good in red, don’t you think?” Thor asks, grinning wildly.

“No, I don’t.”

Thor shrugs, like he’s mauling the answer over. “It’s already my color, isn’t it?”

Loki’s pretty sure he’s going to die here, with Thor and stupid lights tangled everywhere.

“But there’s green, you like green, it’s like, your thing, green and black,” he says, tossing the other lights he’d been holding back into the box, seemingly the same as before. “I actually don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear anything else. It’s always black, black, black, or maybe green if you’re feeling feisty.”

“Thor,” Loki’s pretty sure he tastes bile, and Thor’s incessant rambling is definitely the cause.

“No, no, don’t worry brother, red, green and white are the specific colors for the holiday, that’s what they said, you’ll fit right in.”

“Oh lucky me,” Loki grimaces, But Thor, apparently takes that as a smile and grins back widely at him.

“Now, hand me those lights so I can put them up,” he says and Loki finishes unwinding them and hands them over.

“I’ve been invited to have Christmas with everyone at the tower, and because they can’t say no to me, I’ve managed to convince them of letting me bring you.”

“What? I don’t have any interest in going, especially not like some pet, I’ll be fine here, thank you.”

“You’re not staying here alone! It’s a holiday!”

“You realize that means nothing to me?”

“You’re coming with,” Thor says sternly, narrowing his eyes at Loki. Maybe a few years ago that would have scared him, now it just makes him smirk. Thor’s always been a sore looser.

“What, And miss out on the fun here?” Loki jokes, sneering a little.

“you’d rather celebrate here?” Thor asks, and he looks like he’s weighing the options now. Loki gawks at him openly, but it really goes right over his brothers head.

He’s not celebrating anything, anywhere, with anyone, because he really couldn’t care any less even if he tried. Yet, here Thor was, as boneheaded and driven as ever. He really wasn’t sure what the appeal was, celebrating stupid holidays on earth like they belonged here.

“I don’t think you’re following,” Loki mumbles, watching Thor struggle again with the lights.

“Let us stay here!”

“That really isn’t what I meant-“

“We can stay here, it will be the same as everyone else’s Christmas. How does that sound?”

“That sounds awful.”

“I’ll make drinks,” Thor hums, and Loki’s pretty sure he’s not even listening.

“More alcohol the better,” Loki chimes in, voice dripping with sarcasm and annoyance.

“No, I’ll make cocoa,” Thor says, and he sounds almost offended.

“What?”

“I’ll make cocoa,” he says again, and Loki groans. He looks like a giddy child.

“I don’t even know what that is,” Loki whines, arms folded over his chest. He’s really going to die here, and Thor’s going to be the cause.

Thor’s jaw drops, and he looks like the matter is urgent before gathering himself again so he can spring into that horrendous, happy attitude all over. “I’ll make us some now, you’ll be ready for Christmas then!”

“No,” Loki says, trying to block his brother from exiting the room. Forcefully, Thor could move him, but Loki’s eyes are locked with his, and he doesn’t look interested in a fight; something Loki would fucking serve. “Really, I have, absolutely no interest.”

“Cocoa,” Thor grits out, stepping closer to Loki, chest puffed. He looks equal parts intimidating as he does stupid.

“I don’t like cocoa.”

“Brother, you haven’t even tried it!”

“And I have no intent on changing that!”

“It’s good, you’ll like it!”

“Oh, I’ll like it just as much as I like everything else here,” Loki mumbles, still blocking the doorway.

“Move, Loki,” Thor sighs, sounding like he’s talking to a temperamental child.

“And why should I? I thought you had lights to blind people with in need of being set up?”

“You talk too much about things you know nothing of,” Thor says amusedly, like it’s some great observation. It makes Loki’s blood boil a little.

“I know plenty, I just don’t have some disturbing obsession with earth like you do,” Loki shrugs, sighing. He’s a lost cause, really.

“They’re nice here, nicer than you, Loki.”

“I’m hurt.”

Thor sighs heavily, shoulders slumping a little, which makes him a bit less intimidating and massive. “Move so I can make cocoa, and stop talking, it suits you.”

“I’d say the same for you, but you’ve yet to try it, I understand quiet can be hard to master for some,” Loki taunts, clicking his tongue as she shakes his head.

“Loki,” Thor warns. “Move, we are celebrating.”

Ooh, maybe he’s not playing anymore. That would be interesting.

“See, there we are again!” Loki exclaims, clapping his hands in mock excite. “cocoa this, Christmas That, that’s all you talk about, it’s absolutely maddening to listen to, you have no idea.”

Thor’s glaring daggers one second and then pushing Loki back with a hand against his chest so he can kiss him better the next. It’s… confusing to say the least.

Loki doesn’t push away either, which is also confusing, and instead he kisses back, and Thor’s a little rough, kind of pushy—like he would have expected, but it still takes a weight off of Loki’s shoulders.

Things are so confusing.

“Be quiet and come drink some cocoa?” Thor asks with a grin, seemingly pleased with himself. Loki didn’t realize how long he’d been waiting for that until now.

“Yeah, Okay,” Loki says finally, a little breathless. They can figure things out later, he’s got some weird thing to drink.


	7. Day 7: Secret. (Natasha/Bucky)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat gets Bucky a catto.

Natasha asked a lot of very odd questions leading up to Christmas, probably present ideas and whatnot, but then when Christmas finally rolled around, she only bought him chocolate, some new pajamas, and some other small, typical Christmas present type stuff. He was grateful, of course he was, and he loved the presents, but it seemed odd.

Bucky bought her some movies she’d wanted, a dress and a big box of expensive French chocolates Steve had helped him pick out, because he was the absolute worst with shopping. She’d gushed over them a little, as much as Nat ever does, and then she cuddled up besides Bucky with a blanket and they watched one of the movies while drinking a little whiskey. (He had his with cocoa)

It was really nice, and he was content with everything, which honestly, he never thought he would be again, after so much had happened.

“Hey, Buck?” She says softly, leaning into his side, looking up at him from where she’s slumped.

Bucky peels his eyes from the screen to look at her, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Hm?”

“I was gonna wait till tomorrow, but I apparently can’t keep secrets anymore,” she says with a smile, which Bucky knows isn’t true, because when you spend years of your life where one of your fortes is lying and keeping your lips sealed, that sticks around, it’s not something someone can just shake.

“Okay?”

“We have to go out, but it’s your Christmas present, are you willing to go get it?” She doesn’t really look indifferent, gentle eyes and a soft voice, but now Bucky’s all curious, which might’ve been her scheme.

“I already got my presents, Nat,” Bucky reminds, sticking a pajama clad leg out for emphasis.

She chuckles and pecks his cheek, like she loves to do (Bucky loves it too) and shakes her head. “No, your real present, I’m not a cheap shopper, come on James, I thought you knew better!”

He laughs, pausing the movie because he doesn’t want to miss it, and turns fully to look at her. “What is it?”

“Can’t tell you,” she says, but she grins too.

“Where is it?”

“Not telling.”

“Is it far?”

“No, it’ll be fast, then we can watch movies all night,” she assures, swishing her hand around at the TV and candy scattered around.

“Okay?”

“You don’t trust me?”

Bucky snorts. “You know I do, I’m just trying to figure it out.”

He can’t figure it out though, because there’s not a single thing she’d interrogated him about that would involve leaving the house on Christmas Day. Where stores even open? He didn’t think so.

“You won’t be able to,” she says surely. “I’m good like that.”

Bucky shrugs. “Okay, Yeah, lets go,” he agrees, because he really will go crazy without knowing. “Just let me throw some clothes on.”

“No, come on, you look fine,” she says hastily, tugging his arm as she gets up. She pulls him up easily, because of course she can, and starts making her way for the door.

“Tasha, m’not going out in pajamas,” Bucky muses but she looks like she could care less.

“Trust me.”

He pauses, sighs and rakes a hand through his hair before throwing his hands up and slipping on his boots by the door. “Fine, Fine,” he mumbles. She’s not good for him at this rate. “Better be worth it.”

“It will, Steve helped too, so there’s some extra reassurance.”

“Steve knows?”

Natasha nods, pulling her keys off a tack in the wall and tugging her coat on. It’s black and sleek, it looks good on her. He follows suit. “Yeah, it was kinda his idea, really,” she says as she opens the door to the cold. It’s snowing a little, but it’s not much, not enough to bother him anyways.

“And you won’t even give me a hint?”

“No, it’s therapeutic, though,” she grins, unlocking and climbing into the car. Bucky follows, shutting the door behind him and sinking down in his seat. The snow was starting to pile up, dusting over the windshield.

“It better not be a spa of any kind, or I swear I’ll hurt you both,” he says, narrowing his eyes skeptically. She just laughs, shaking her head as she pulls out of the driveway.

“It’s not, I promise,” she smiles, eyes focused on the road.

They drive for ten, maybe fifteen minutes in quiet. He checks his phone once or twice, but for the most part he spends his time staring out the window, trying to decide where they’re going. He never really goes out much as it is, especially towards this end of town. It’s more secluded, mostly just houses and little apartment complexes, spotted with little shops.

Eventually she parks, just along the side of a fairly vacant street. He raises an eyebrow at her, questioning as he looks around.

“I know, I know,” she says, turning off the car. “Just, trust me?”

“You know I do,” Bucky tells her.

She nods, opening the car door. “Wait here, Okay?”

“What?” He frowns, leaning over his seat to look at her. “Why can’t I come?”

“Just wait, I’ll be super quick.”

“Okay, Fine,” Bucky grins, sighing with exasperation. She mutters a quick thank you and then she’s closing the door and jogging down the sidewalk and back into a cluttered expanse of little houses.

He checks his phone a few times, again, even though there’s not much to look at, and ultimately ends up just listening to some shit Christmas song on the radio. About five minutes after that, he sees her in the rear view mirror, walking briskly back to the car with a big box in her arms. There was a blanket draped over, so he couldn’t tell what it was exactly, or what the contents might be, but it was large enough to be awkward.

By time she’s close to the car, Bucky decides to climb out so he can open the door for her. She smiles huge at him and he laughs. “What?”

“I’m holding your Christmas present, of course,” she grins.

“Yeah, I gathered that,” he chuckled.

“You have to open it like, right now, Okay?”

“I can wait,” he says with an amused smile, sliding back into the car.

“No, no, no, Barnes!” She says frantically, climbing in clumsily, and setting the box on his lap. “The present can’t wait.”

Bucky gave her a confused little head tilt, taking the box fully. There was a heavy weight to the side of it, unbalanced and kind of weird. “Where’d you even go to get whatever this is?”

“James, oh my god, just open it.”

“Okay, Okay,” he sighs, slowly pulling the cover off of the box, just leaving it hanging off to the side.

Inside, was a small, scraggly looking cat, looking up at him with little green eyes, squinting a little at him. It’s fur was short and a little choppy, a tiny blue collar around its neck.

“Nat, What the hell?” He asks, a little alarmed, gawking at her. She just grins madly at him, leaning over so she could pull it out of the box.

“Her name is daisy,” she smiles, stroking its head as it curls easily into her chest. “And now, shes yours.”

Bucky can’t even help but let a little laugh slip past his lips. “You got me a cat?”

“We thought you needed an animal, dogs are more work, and she needed a good home—she’s a rescue,” she smiles down at it. Bucky can hear its little rattle in its chest as it purrs away under her touch.

“It’s so little,” he mumbles, watching its eyes close under the attention.

Natasha hums, nodding slightly. “She wasn’t taken care of before, a lady took her in but she just can’t keep her— but it’s nothing we can’t fix,” she smiled. “Do you like her?”

“Yeah, I love her,” he smiled, taking the cat when she offered it, holding it out. It suckled at his finger a little, making small mewing noises, still purring heartily. It made Bucky feel oddly proud, he liked the fact it was already clinging to him. It was nice that the cat didn’t have to warm up to him like most people did, weary of his background or his arm. “Hey, sweetie,” He said softly, stroking its head.

It meowed softly, looking up at him with curious eyes. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh softly, pride bubbling up in his chest.

“Thanks, Tasha,” he hums gently, pulling it against his chest so she could curl up there, tail swishing back and forth gently.

“You know it, Buck,” she smiled. “Merry Christmas.”


	8. Day 8: Workshop (Tony/Steve)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is tired of Tony spending all his time working, especially over the Holiday season.

Steve’s patience has thinned drastically over the past few weeks leading up to Christmas. Tony’s just constantly busy, his nose buried in some new project, his skin sticky with sweat and oil. There are days that Steve doesn’t even see him, he ends up asleep before Tony even considers quitting for the night. It’s frustrating, because Steve wants to spend time with him, especially around the holidays, and Tony has been even harder to get time with.

At first it’s okay, because Steve spends that time shopping for decorations, for presents, etc. the stuff Tony either doesn’t want to do, or couldn’t do. It’s around a week or two after Steve’s completely finished with all of those things that he realizes Tony isn’t going to drop his work, no matter what time of year it is.

He brings Tony water or coffee, makes sure he’s eaten, because he’s a good boyfriend, and he cares, but it still kind of bothers him. He wants to watch stupid Christmas movies, or just drink cocoa, cider, and cuddle on the couch or in bed, maybe take a bath, but Tony’s just never there. He tried to bring it up too, over and over, but Tony always just says he’s busy, and that he’s fine. He’s always fine.

Eventually, Steve just wears down until his patients is brittle. So, he wakes up, showers, gets dressed, eats breakfast, plays out his normal morning, and then he heads to Tony’s lab, where he’s undoubtedly held up. He’s not even sure he went to bed last night.

He considers knocking, but the door is already half way open, and he can hear music thrumming quietly over the speakers; background noise to the clanking and ticking of Tony working. Ultimately, he just walks in, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Hey, Tony?” He asks, walking briskly further into the room.

Tony’s got goggles over his eyes, his shirt smeared with oil and grease, and his hair sticking up all over. He looks kind of cute, but it doesn’t deter Steve any. Tony doesn’t look up from his work, so either he’s too busy to care, or he didn’t hear Steve.

He takes it upon himself, then, to make his way over to Tony, standing behind his chair where he’s hunched over, screwing a bolt into some weird looking piece to one of his suits. “Tony,” Steve says again, a little louder.

Tony doesn’t react, still working on his suit, but he makes a noise, cocking his head slightly. “Hm?” His attention is still mainly focused on his work though, of course.

“Come on, take a break,” Steve urges, leaning onto the back of his chair.

“I can’t, Stevie,” he says absently in response, voice still monotone with disinterest. “I’m busy.”

“You’ve been busy.”

“Mhm.”

“Tony, I’m serious,” he says, frustration lacing his voice.

He stops what he’s doing and sets down the tools, finally turning to face Steve. “I’m just trying to get work done,” he sighs, like it’s really not an issue, like Steve is being the preposterous one.

“And I’m trying to actually see you at some point, I’m trying to spend time with you, Tony, but you’re always up here, working your ass off,” Steve mutters, hands still shoved in his pockets.

Tony sighs softly, smoothing a hand over his face. “Christmas time is stressful,” he says finally.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Steve responds softly, frowning worriedly at him. “Come on, lets go take a bath, or just lay in bed with me?”

Tony heaves another sigh, long and frustrated. He looks tired, Steve’s sure he’s probably beyond tired at this point. “Yeah, alright.”

Steve smiles, waiting for him to stand and stretch before scooping him up bridal style in his arms. He really doesn’t weigh much, and it feels good to have him close again.

“What’re you doing?” Tony asks with a snort, clutching at Steve’s shoulder.

“We’re gonna go take a nap and then I’m gonna shove sugar cookies down your throat,” Steve grins, carrying him easily from the lab.

“Kinky,” Tony hums, resting his head against Steve.

Steve smiles and shakes his head. “Whatever,” he chuckles.

So, Steve takes them both to bed and Tony moves up close like a magnet, snuggling against Steve’s chest with a soft and relieved little sigh. Steve just lays on his side with Tony pressed close to him, carding a hand through his hair or over Tony’s back, under his thin cotton t-shirt.

“I’m still holding you to the cookie thing,” Tony mutters quietly after a long stretch of quiet has passed. He sounds half asleep already, which is just fine by Steve. He figures he could use the rest too.

“You can have as many as you want,” Steve chuckles fondly.

“I’m just saying, Christmas cookies are what I live for.”


End file.
